


Wallpaper

by KaelleCappuccino



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Bronn is an idiot, Changing People, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Humor, POV Sandor Clegane, Sandor and Bronn friendship, Sandor easily panic, sophie kinsella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelleCappuccino/pseuds/KaelleCappuccino
Summary: Bronn has an idea and obviously, Sandor has to help him. That's what friends do. Even when your beautiful ex-whom-you're-still-in-love-with gets involved.Inspired from Sophie Kinsella's short story "Changing People"
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Wallpaper

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote that some time ago now, in French. So here is it in English. Hope you'll like it !

Sandor was at his arm exercises when the ring-bell resonated like a scream throughout his flat. Sweaty, bare-chested and grumpy, he went to open it without caring about the rather strong scent of effort emanating from him. 

What would it change anyway, since the sight of him only was enough to drive people away ?

It was Bronn. 

-Ayo, dude, nice pecs !

He pat Sandor’s torso and entered the flat as if it was his own. Which wasn’t far from the truth, considering the insane amount of time he spend in it. He spread out on his couch, shoes on. Bronn had this particular attitude of just not… feeling any shame, in any circumstance, not ever. Sandor closed his eyes briefly in frustration and closed the door, sighing :

-What the fuck do you want ?

-Can’t I just visit my friend without a second thought ?

Sandor raised an eyebrow.

-Okay, fine, I had an idea. 

-Oh hell no. 

The lack of shame put aside, Bronn had another problem : he didn’t seemed capable of keeping a stable job. Always buried under a mountain of debts, he always was coming up with some fucked up ideas to earn a bit of money. And for some reason, Sandor, often if not always, found himself entangled with his crazy plans, one way or another.

-Don’t look this exasperated ! It’ll work this time, I swear ! 

-Can’t be worse than model for counterfeit of Calvin Klein.

-That one was on you !

-Sorry if I wasn’t comfortable being half naked in front of terrifyingly horny old hags !

-If you were just a bit more brave, we could have been a bit more known and worked with something else than old ladies !

-If I wasn’t clear enough, I am not posing in front of a camera, in any situation !

-What about your mugshot ?

-Oh my gods, get the fuck out.

-Not until I exposed my marvelous plan out loud. 

Sandor ran his hand over his face. Bronn was always seeking him out for his stupid ideas, when he could very well go annoy his best friend Tyrion. Maybe he didn’t because Tyrion had a talent for transforming a complicated situation into a felony.   
And maybe Sandor needed adrenaline to not think about…

He shook his head. Nope. Don’t think about it.

-What’s your idea ?

-Interior designer ! Announced proudly Bronn.

There was a silence. 

-I’m sorry what ?

-Interior designer ! It’s very easy, I swear ! No need for qualifications, only some good addresses. 

-No, really, what the fuck interior designer ? You can’t tell apart red from purple for the life of you. If Jaime didn’t stopped you, you would have buy that giant octopus in aluminum !

-It was a kraken and Euron seemed really honest at the time. That’s beside the point ! Clients tell us what they want and we just make it happen ! It’s basically just crafting. 

-Us ? 

-Please !

Sandor opened a bottle of wine, thinking. At least, he wouldn’t have to wear slutty boxers, or stalk cheating women until 4am. Or wear a Santa Claus outfit for the local mall. Or be a bartender in a gay bar. One could say Sandor had done enough for Bronn this past year, since…

Damn it dog, don’t think about it !

-Okay, what do you want from me ?

-Be my assistant.

He almost spat out his wine.

-Sorry, be your what ?

-What did you expect ?

-Something along the lines of “Help me with the wallpaper once in a while” or “A little advertisement please ?”. 

-Yeah, well that and some other things.

-I already have a job !

-That shit ? Don’t make me laugh.

-Well, I pay my rent with that shit.

-You used to earn more.

Sandor growled in his beard, bitter. He didn’t liked to think about this period. To many memories. Too many were bad. Too many were good.

-”Used” being the key-word, I don’t want to talk about it.

-You’re so annoyingly stubborn ! For the gods’ sake, do something ! This work isn’t made for you ! Change before your crippling depression has the better of you ! 

Bronn was truly worried, strangely. Sandor closed his eyes, feeling the emptiness inside flaming with pain. The lack, the anger, the sadness… Clogging his throat. Painfully.

-Interior designer ? Me ? Really ?

-It’s always better than gravedigger, answered Bronn, rolling his eyes. And you’ll be with your friend !

He looked at him, big smile and hopeful eyes. Sandor put his glass down. 

-Associate.

-Sorry ?

-Associate. Certainly not your assistant.

-Okay, but I warn you, I had the idea, so it’s 70/30. Even happy, Bronn was a greedy bitch.

-60/40.

-65/35, I have a family to feed Sandor. 

-Your cat isn’t a kid. Okay deal, 65/35.

They clapped hands.

When Bronn finally left his apartment, Sandor was feeling strange. He sprawled on the couch and stared at the ceiling. It’s been a year in this flat and yet.. Yet he was a stranger   
in-between those walls. He was a passenger.

He met Bronn two to three years ago, he couldn’t remember exactly. He remembered that he couldn’t stand him at first though. Really couldn’t. But then, little by little, they realized they had more or less the same ethics. Which was kind of rare in their profession.  
They were still bodyguards at that time. Well, Sandor had qualifications and Bronn did what he did best : false curriculum. And when Tyrion, aka his employer, realized that, he just… Went with it. 

Tyrion wasn’t really Sandor’s employer, just the uncle of the boy he was supposed to protect. Protect from what, he still wondered, but his psycho mother payed well, so there was that. Quitting definitely cut short his finances. 

But he better not lingered on the past. Not when it brought him such guilt and anger. He got up and went to take a shower.  
The misplaced mirror send back the reflection of a too big, too scarred, too ugly man. He couldn’t really escape it. Closing his eyes under the warm water, he started thinking. Could he leave his job ? Were Bronn’s project enough for him ? After all, gravedigger wasn’t that bad. His boss was cool. Wise old man vibes. And manual work was both good for his arms and mind.   
But was he happy ? A salty chuckle bubbled out of his lips. Happy ? What a strange concept. Especially without her. 

He couldn’t had bother believing her. Her wanting him. Him, the old, the scarred, the mean dog. No one wanted him, and even less the most beautiful woman of all time. He had told her, countless times. 

You shouldn’t want me. You don’t really want me. 

Annoyingly stupid. Oh if Bronn knew how right he was. Despite all of her reassurance, despite her affirmations, he persisted in his denial. 

You shouldn’t want me. You don’t really want me. 

She wanted to move in together. He had begrudged, whined about it, absolutely convinced it was a caprice, terrified that she’ll wake up next to him and realize how fucked up he really was. 

She wanted him to meet her parents. He said no. No way her honorable family would ever accept him. It’ll just accelerate the downfall of their relationship. They would had open her eyes and he couldn’t have stand the look in it once she would truly see him for the monster he was. 

Stupid dog. Stupid, idiot dog. Coward. 

He shook his head, projecting droplet of water all around and stepped out. He had to stop thinking about it. As a matter of fact, he had to stop thinking. 

Against all odds, Bronn came back one week later, all excited. He had found, to the greatest surprise of his friend, his first client.

-How did you do ?

-Slid as much flyers as I could into Home&Gardens, my dentist’s favorite magazine. Well, actually, Carol’s favorite. 

-Carol ?

-His wife. Great woman, lovely tits.

-Are you having an affair with...you know what, I don’t want to know. What flyers ?

Bronn handed him one. It was a small little piece of white cardboard, with printed in black the inscription : Bronn&Clegane, interior design.

-Tyrion chose the name since he helped me payed for them. Did you know he has a new girlfriend ? Serious this time ?

-I couldn’t care less, frankly. Who’s hiring us ?

-Hardyng something. We meet him in two hours at this address, he called me yesterday.

Sandor shrugged in disdain :

-Damn, can’t believe actual people below 60 read this kind of crap magazine.

-First of all, we don’t know his age and Sandor, you’re an interior designer now, you can’t just say that.

-Only 35% of it

Harrold Hardyng was indeed way below 60. Maybe 25, maybe a bit more. It was hard to tell : the man truly was handsome. Tan skin, not a single spot or acne scar, blond, combed hair, and big blue eyes. He was quite assured, but the more he talked, the more Sandor was finding him arrogant.

-As you can see… Hardyng made an exaggerate gesture… This place really needs a bit… A lot ! Of tidying up. 

The disdain in his voice made Sandor wince. The flat wasn’t too bad : the walls were of a delicate pastel blue, decorated with a lot of green plants and white flowers, little lights fluttering around with a discreet glow and old shelves you could barely see under the numerous books. Sandor discerned a few titles : “Jenny of the Oldstones”, “Florian and Jonquil”… Pain shot through his heart reading that last title and he reported his attention to the annoying blond.

-...really not my style.

Eyeing his neat white shirt tucked into his straight pants, his shyning shoes and the big gold ring on his major, Sandor couldn’t help but a sarcastic :

-Really ?

Hardyng shot him a look of pure disdain before continuing :

-My girlfriend put me in charge of redoing the whole place. Or rather, I insisted ! 

His laugh was wakening something primal in Sandor, something quite violent.

-You see, I intend to move here for her birthday, as a present, so I thought to surprise her even more with a little… renovation ! I want the best for her, really. She’s at her parents house for a month, I jumped on the occasion.

Sandor’s eyes were becoming uncontrollably wider at each words. He briefly looked at Bronn, who was pretending to write something on his 2ct notebook bought 10 min prior for “professionalism”, but really was just underlining several times the word “douche”. Well at least, they could agree on that. 

-What I think would be good is : take all of those books away, no one read them anyway. Repaint those walls, honestly colored walls are for kids, am I right ?! I was thinking maybe light gray and bronze, hum ? Some sophisticated wallpapers, maybe geometric patters. I want modern, serious… Luxurious, but in an elegant way.

Bronn wrote “sad, boring, stick in my ass, mydadisalawyer”. Sandor repressed a chuckle : working with someone like Bronn really had its perks. 

-I see exactly what you have in mind Harrold. I already have so many ideas to make your vision come true, although it may cause the problem of the price…

Oh he’s good.

-No, no, don’t worry about that. Budget isn’t a problem for Sissi and me, really. 

-Your girlfriend's name is Sissi ? Sandor couldn’t help but ask in a desperate way not to laugh out loud.

-That’s what I call her. It’s a bit more….imperial, don’t you think ?

-Eventually, responded Sandor in a way that meant absolutely the fuck not.

Hardyng looked a bit annoyed :

-You have a girlfriend yourself ? 

He could feel him staring at his scars, analyzing each bump with the ruthless pity of the man who knows he is handsome. 

-No, I don’t. 

-That’s not surprising, whispered the young man.

A wave of pure anger overwhelmed Sandor, burning through his veins as if fire had replaced blood. It took all his strength not to strangle that little fucker on the spot, and he fixated on the little lights, concentrated on his breathing to stay calm.

-Well, hum.. Bronn cleared his throat. Could we see the whole place now, please ?

-Of course ! Follow me please.

Hardyng rose from the soft sofa and Bronn took advantage of his turned back to lean on toward Sandor :

-There’s no cure for being a cunt. Don’t worry, we are literally robbing him.

Sandor forced a smile, and they went after Hardyng. The kitchen was small, more effective than aesthetic and so could have been said about the bathroom if not for the huge amount of skincare neatly settled on small glass shelves. 

They arrived to the bedroom and Sandor felt a familiar pang of pain seeing the painting above the bed frame. It looked like…

Wait a damn minute.

He stepped closer. It was really, a lot actually, similar to… Those shadows...This silhouette of a wolf...The bright red of the bird…

It can’t be…

But it was.

-Oh yes, the painting. 

Sandor knew. He helped her choosing it. Breathing was getting harder and harder.

-You like it ? Asked Hardyng. I think it’s hideous. Never understood the symbolic, and quite frankly, the Manet inspiration is over…

-Monet, Sandor cut him middle sentence.

-I’m sorry ?

-It’s an inspiration from Monet, not Manet. 

Sandor’s voice sounded strangled, even to his ears. 

-You know your classics, I see.

-Where did you get it ?

-It’s my girlfriend’s, it’s not mine. I would never spend money on that.

His laugh didn’t quite reach Sandor’s ears. Now, he was seeing evidence of her presence everywhere, obviously. The glass of water on the bed stand. The coat hung on the door. The psyche in the corner.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Still the same ugly dog, but under the scars, he was getting really livid.

-Wow ! That’s your girlfriend ?

Bronn had found a picture of two girls smiling. No doubt allowed anymore. Sandor recognized her little sister’s short hairs. She was standing next to her, in front off some   
monument. Her red hair stood out. 

Bronn couldn’t know, he never met her. But Sandor knew.

-Yes ! Her real name is Sansa. She comes from a great northern family you know ? Very rich and powerful !

Sandor knew, but hearing her name was truly the last blow. It was getting way to hot, he had to get out of here.

-Sorry, I...I feel kind of ill..I just...I need….

-Sandor, dude, are you okay ? Bronn was worried.

-Yes ! Everything is...perfectly fine… Everything’s great I just need...Fresh air.

He practically ran out of the building.

Fuck.

It was just after they met. He remembered it very well. He was absolutely wasted and she was… Well, she was not. But she was there, beautiful, kind, innocent. A bit scared. Somehow, as awful as it was to admit it, it made her even more beautiful. He was like bewitched by the beauty of her delicate features, and so the words poured out of him like running water :

-I was six, he told her. And he was five years older than me, and so much stronger. Some puppeteer sold us wooden toys...Beautifully made, all articulate and painted.   
She had watched him, silently, her blue eyes glowing under the moon.

-I wanted the knight. He never played with it, I thought… I was terrified he would caught me. And he did. He did caught me.

Her eyes had went wide, both horrified and captivated. 

-When he saw me with it, he caught me and forced my head into the fire. 

His voice was but a rough whisper in the dark.

-The smell was the worst part. Do you know what burning flesh smelled like ? Still to this day, I remember. Pain too. Only the men who went through fire know what hell is like. But no, the worst...The true worst of it all… Was that it was him. His hand pushing down on me while I screamed. My own brother.

He hadn’t knew if he should savor the shocked look on her face back then.

-You know what happened after that ? Of course you don’t, stupid little bird. Seven years later, he got into the military. Now he’s a captain. A captain ! So please, don’t praise the value and morals of soldiers to me girl. Not to me.

The horror painted all over her face had disappeared, replaced by a profound sadness. Sandor had looked at her for a second before turning away, away from this creature way too beautiful for him, away to never look back, but she stopped him by the arm :

-He doesn’t deserve his rank, nor his medals.

There was a silent, during which he had stared at her, looking in her pure eye for the lie, the mockery. But there was none. And he couldn’t help it, really, but at this moment, he irremediably, madly, fell in love with Sansa Stark. 

-No little bird. He doesn’t. 

He remembered how hard this love was. To see her being with another man had been torture, especially since it was a cunt he was payed to protect. Protect ! When his deepest desire was to simply beat the shit out of this little prick and show Sansa how a real man would treat her.

But when, by some miracle, he had the opportunity to actually show her, to really treat her like the princess she was, he failed. He ruined everything. His bloody defiance ! His fucking trust issues ! Always looking for the lie, unable to trust her, to believe her, to see she had chosen him. Him, no one else ! But in the morning, seeing himself in the mirror reminded him that today was the day she would realize her mistake and leave. Fly away from him.

And his heart kept breaking over and over again, thinking how much things would have been different if he hadn’t just….She would have been here, with him, in his arms not in those of fucking Hardyng ! 

She left, tears in her eyes. Her words still in his head, night and day. 

How can you be so awful Sandor ? How ? I try, I swear, I am trying but you...You never say “I love you” to me ! Never ! I don’t know what to do to make you happy. You’re not happy with me ! I can see it ! But I want you to be… Maybe… Maybe I should just...leave. I need a break !

And left she did, slamming the door. He didn’t text her all night, feeling numb. The following morning, Margeary came to pick up her stuff, glaring daggers at him. For the occasion, he was a zombie. Not that he felt like he had a choice : his body refused to move from the couch. Moving was admitting that it was real.

But it was real. She was gone.

Bronn called him a bit later :

-Dude, I found us a spot..!

He kissed the phone and Sandor pulled his head back in disgust. 

-A store, I mean, really, exactly what we need ! A sort of thrift-shop “All for 20$”, yeah, that’s the name ! Tells you everything you need to know, eh ?

-Bronn…

-And since, there’s room for negotiating, I mean, the benefices we’re getting out of this, dude !

-Bronn, I…

-Hardyng send me some samples of the wallpapers he wants, and Seven hells, that man has no taste, not a fucking ounce. 

-Bronn, listen, you…

-I’m totally going to need Jaime’s help, he’s good at this sort of stuff, the lighting and all…

-Bronn, can you please…

-But you have to help me to carry all the new furniture, like that man wants a fucking piano, what the fuck, I bet he doesn’t even play. 

-Bronn !!

-Yes, you were saying ?

-I can’t. I can’t do this.

-A piano isn’t that heavy you drama queen. 

-I mean, I can’t help you, globally, with the whole project.

-Why, because the guy is a jerk ? Sandor, you worked for Joffrey fucking Baratheon. You can handle this. 

-Bronn…

-You want your 35% yes or no ? Because I need my 65%, like really bad. Listen, I’m not asking to kiss his ass or see him everyday. Just help me choosing a goddamn wallpaper and carry a piano or two across town. Help me transform this lovely flat into the office of a Stannis supporter. 

Sandor sighed. He did say he would help. He did could use a bit of spare money. He didn’t had to spend time with him. Nor to see her.

Errr, the things I do for friendship.

-Do you have a car ? For the piano across town ?

-Of course not Sandor, that’s the whole point of me being a pain in your ass. 

They worked on it for two weeks and it was actually kind of nice. Sandor surprised himself enjoying the trips to the thrift-shop with Bronn and Jaime, picking up various versions of ugliness to put on the walls. At several occasions, avoiding Bronn as best as possible, Jaime, who knew the past history of Sandor and Sansa, tried to guilt trip him into warning her he was about to completely destroy her flat. 

It never worked because Sandor’s loyalty remained to his friend, not at all because he was terrified of actually talking to her.   
Beside, what was the harm ? It wasn’t his deeds, but her boyfriend’s. She would never know he had a part in this. She would just realize that her boyfriend was a total jerk, leave him and then, well then. Maybe, he would contact her. 

One evening, as Sandor didn’t had a night shift, he received a call from Bronn :

-Sandor, thank the gods you picked up !

-What the fuck do you want.

-We’re in deep shit. We are supposed to finish this fucking flat by tomorrow, the girl is coming back in like two days !

-Okay and ?

-And this motherfucking wallpaper still isn’t in place, but I can’t take care of it tonight and neither can Jaime !

-Why ?

-Why ?

-Why can’t you take care of it, you fucking idiot ?

-I have a date.

Sandor could literally smell his smug grin through the phone.

-You. Are. A. Pain.

-A date with a potential client ! And beside, I don’t know how to put on wallpapers. Please, please, that’s the last thing I’ll ask of you. I will do all the fine-tuning tomorrow, sure   
thing, but I can’t finish if the damn wallpaper isn’t...

-Okay, okay, I get it ! I will do it, Seven Hells.

-Great, I’m at your building’s door, open up, I’ll give you the keys.

And he hung up. Sandor resisted the wall to punched him right in the teeth when arriving downstairs and took the keys.

-You are the worst friend I have. All of that for a date.

-And you’re the best, thank you so much, I’ll send you her nudes !

-What no, what the fuck, you’re gross, get out ! 

Sandor stared at the door of Sansa’s apartment for what seemed like an eternity. He was going to kill Bronn for sure, really. Going there on broad daylight with him and Jaime was a thing, but alone, at night… 

He was being stupid. He stepped in : they ruined the flat, it was awful. Gone was the soft color of the wall, gone were the plants and the little lights and the books. They had painted the walls either a light gray to catch the light, or a dark bronze color for… He didn’t knew exactly but it wasn’t a good reason.  
Bronn had opted for a thin black sofa to replace the old soft cream one on which Sandor sat down the first time he came, and instead of the round glass table, he put a squared dark one, on which he disposed some whiskey glasses.

A sudden doubt sized him and he darted toward the bedroom. He tried not to linger on the bed, as imagining Hardyng fucking his little bird gave him a stomach ache so bad he wanted to punch himself in the guts and throw up.  
The bedroom had indeed been transformed as well. All the poetry, softness and innocence that characterized Sansa so well had disappeared, to the profit of the cold severity of luxury. On top of that, the painting was gone. Sandor clenched his fists in anger. 

-What are you doing here ?

He turned quickly on his heels : Hardyng was there, all dressed up in a dark suit. He probably made other people iron his clothes, Sandor thought with disgust. He breathed in, calming his nerves before committing a murder.

-I’m helping Bronn, for the uh.. Wallpaper.

-It’s my room, get out of here. 

-Where’s the painting ? Sandor was frowning without restrain at this point and Hardyng took a step back with an expression of mixed fear and repulsion.

-This shit ? 

-It’s art. 

-It’s good for trash. 

-It’s not yours !

-That is none of your business, stick your nose elsewhere ! Sissi didn’t care about it anymore anyway. She’ll be happy to see some change. Now get out. Glue that wallpaper and   
leave. 

It was getting harder and harder to not strangle him on the spot. He hated him. He hated him. What the fuck did Sansa saw in him ?

He watched him leave the flat, broiling in place with rage. He must tell her “I love you” all the time. A lie embroided with expensive gifts and a pretty face.   
But it was so obvious he was a shitty person ! Sandor didn’t considered himself a good man, far from that. But he actually cared about her, about the things she liked and disliked. He would give up everything just to make her smile, but this guy wasn’t even able to respect her belongings and private space. 

He looked around the flat, and motivated by rage and maybe something that looked a lot like jealousy, took a thin brush and a pot of white paint.

Things you don’t know about Sansa.

He considered the writing for a moment. It felt good.

-She hates dark colors.  
-If she says she likes it when you call her Sissi, she’s lying.  
-In the evening, she used to stroke my hairs.  
-In the morning, she put on lemon oil instead of perfum.  
-She loves to sleep snuggled between pillows  
-She sings in the shower and her favorite song is Florian and Jonquil.  
-Her ex-boyfriend was an asshole, and so is the current.  
-Her dad gifted a doll and she never parts from it.  
-She loved to sleep in nothing but my t-shirts.  
-I’m an idiot.  
-Without her, I don’t think my life has purpose.  
-I dream of her when I fall asleep without being tired to the core  
-I haven’t been with an other girl since she left.  
-I’d do anything for her.  
-I love her  
-I’m sorry

And so on. He wrote everything he thought, everything he felt, until there was no more room for anything. He took a step back. One wall out of the three he had to cover with wallpaper was covered in white writing. 

He felt strangely soothed. A deep melancholy had possessed him, but for the first time in a year, he felt calm. He put down the paint and took the glue. One after the other, he laid piece by piece the wallpaper, recovering the confessions bit by bit. 

As he put down the last piece, the door opened and closed loudly.

-If you came to help me after your date, it’s a bit late !

Sandor turned around, a smile on his lips to greet his friend. Except it wasn’t Bronn. He almost dropped his brush full of glue.

She was even more beautiful than in his memories. Pale skin glowing slightly in the moon, hairs like living fire, and her eyes...How could he had lived without her eyes ? Two pieces of sky illumining the whole room, pure and…

And staring at him very perplexedly.

He awkwardly stepped down the scale, wiping uselessly his hands on his pants, trying very hard to stay as stern as possible. Gods, why did her beauty had to be so striking ?

-What are you…

-It’s a long story. I umh…You.. I mean...

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and was finding it hard to resist the urge to seize her against the door, lifting her blue skirt, tearing her stockings apart, to bite her, mark her… He knew where the bedroom was, it would be easier to carry her and...

Was he staring at her ?

Oh no. It was akward. In two long strides he got to his jacket, careful to keep his eyes glued to the ground. He had to get out of here. Now.   
But as he walked past her to get to the door, he couldn’t resist to lean on to her scent of citrus and roses, and whispered as close as he dared to her ear :

-I am not responsible for the state of your flat. 

Only then, she seemed to notice the mess. She dropped her bag, mouth agape and Sandor left.

After a week of living through a fog of hesitations to text, drunk breakdowns in the arms of Jaime and daydreaming about how hot it would have been to fuck her on the bed she shared with Hardyng, Sandor was trying to cook without burning the whole building down when Bronn entered his flat with a blast : 

-You never learned how to knock on doors, you fucking dumbass ?

-I have great news !

-I don’t care, knock !

His friend ignored him and plunged his finger in the sauce.

-We are invited to the house-warming of our first client ! I receive a mail from his girl.

-Aah, don’t want to go, responded automatically Sandor, cold sweat running down his neck. Feasting on Sansa’s misery of having her place ruined ? No.

Or even worse ! Facing her wrath after he ravaged her flat ? Hell, no. She was probably furious against all of them.

If he was Bronn, he’d keep a low profile. 

-Don’t be a fucking child ! There will be more clients there, for sure. It’ll be a professional springboard ! Can’t let it slip away !

-Nope, not going.

-What the fuck are you afraid of ?

My ex, my beautiful, probably pissed off ex whom I’m still in love with !

-Nothing.

-I swear I’m not committing arson this time ! 

-I am not going !

-Just one hour ! There will be free food and champagne !

-No !

-Half-an-hour ! Just this, in honor of our friendship ! You can’t let me down on this common ! You insisted on being my associate.

He has a point this bastard.

Sandor considered his friend for a good half-minute, sighed deeply…

-20 minutes. We are staying 20 min, not one more and as much as you want less okay ?

There was a slight chance he won’t even cross path with Sansa. Which didn’t lighten his mood. At all.

-I am not saying it’s inappropriate, I am saying you could have put some effort.

Sandor didn’t liked to be scolded by his friend about his choice of clothing, but right now, he had bigger issues. Like, the fact that Sansa was behind that door, and just to think of   
it, his mouth was dry and his hands sweaty.

-I won’t be wearing a fucking suit to a house-warming, he replied dryly. 

Before Bronn could replicate, the door fled open :

-You must be the interior designer ?

It was Margeary. She greeted Bronn with a nod, but shot Sandor a deathly glare :

-Yup, that’s…

-You had the nerve to show up you ? Wow.

-Well, fuck you too Margeary.

A tensed silence followed up. 

-So uhm, can we...enter ? Asked Bronn

She reluctantly stepped to the side to let them in. After one last glare, she disappeared into the small crowd.

-No offense dude, but like, how the fuck do you know such fine piece of girl ?

-I don’t like that fucking woman, you can have her if you want. 

They entered the living room and froze.

-Hey ! What did they do to the wallpaper ?

The hideous wallpaper was gone and all the walls were painted in white. It was well...maybe not as hideous as before but since the rest of the furniture didn’t came with it, it wasn’t pretty either. 

It suddenly dawned on Sandor that if the wallpaper was gone, someone must have taking it off. And that someone must has...seen…

Oh shit. He had to get out of this trap. Now.

-Bronn, I should maybe just…

-Sansa ! Good evening !

-Oh, hi, Bronn, good evening !

Sansa hurried towards them and once again, Sandor felt as if a lightning bolt was striking him on repeat. She was… mesmerizing in a white jumpsuit and gold jewelry. It wasn’t   
fair !

-And this is my associate, Sandor…

-Clegane yes, I know.

She smiled at him. At him. Not them. Him.

Her lips were glowing in the dim light. Gods he was in love with her.

-You know each other ? Bronn was too surprised for it to not be offensive, but Sandor couldn’t care less.

-Yes.

She broke eye contact with Sandor, who still couldn’t look away from her. 

-Harrold isn’t here ?

-No. Well, actually, we’re not...I left him.

Sandor stopped breathing.

-Really ? Bronn’s sarcasm was painfully obvious. I hope it wasn’t the wallpaper !

Sandor wanted to die as a little malicious smile spread on Sansa’s luscious lips.

-Not really, but to be honest it played a huge part in it. 

-You’re the one who took it off ?

-Yes.

-Why ? I mean, beside its obvious ugliness ?

-Let’s say...some sort of intuition.

She tapped the tip of her adorable nose. Sandor remembered the way he used to kiss it

-And I think I was right to do so. It was really...enlightening. 

She shot an eye toward Sandor. Breathing ? Speaking ? He didn’t remember. All the things he wrote about her, about him, about them ? He remembered all too clearly. 

-Harrold wasn’t too mad ?

-Harrold ? He was, a bit. But he had to face reality. Sometimes, we prefer the old. 

Sandor’s heart was beating a bit too fast and it felt like everyone could hear him.

-What do you think Clegane ? She asked. Do you think I made the right choice ? Or should I had let things...as they were ?

She was looking directly at him, with a sparkle in her blue eyes. It was scary the power she held on him. He would do anything for her to keep looking at him. Anything, really. To   
just hug her one more time, breath in her scent, drown in her softness...To kiss her one more time….To have a chance to love her again. Make his daydream of a life together a reality. Physically, he could. Pick her up. He knew where the bedroom was. Tearing that goddamn jumpsuit…

Instead, he thought and answer :

-It was a good choice. At least, now, you know.

They looked at each other, lost in thought and sight. Was he imagining things or was there this sparkle of what he longed for ? Was it faith, that connection, that fire between them ? He couldn’t be the only one to dream about them. 

About us.

Whatever magic was involved, it didn’t include Bronn :

-Be honest, I’m tough ! The decoration. You like it or not ? 

-I wouldn’t dare to lie…

Did she winked at him ?

-I think it’s terrible. I hate it.

-You know what ? Me too ! And that’s good, because that is specifically the new services my company provides : “A shitty designer ruined your interior ? We fix it !” I mean, assured success !

She laughed, true laughed from the belly, warm and lovely.

-That’s true ! She looked at Sandor. I miss what I had before. Kind of want it back… If it’s possible of course.

He wasn’t dreaming and when he realized it, couldn’t help a broad smile :

-Everything is possible little bird. 

Their hands brushed, and this time, Sandor knew he would not let go ever again.


End file.
